


nightbird mentioned you in a post!

by BlurglesmurfKlaine



Category: Glee
Genre: Canon Divergent, Fluff, Humor, Internet friends to lovers, M/M, One Shot, Season/Series 02, Social Media AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25418215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlurglesmurfKlaine/pseuds/BlurglesmurfKlaine
Summary: Blaine has a blog and can’t stop replaying a certain video over and over again. Season 2 AU
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 42
Kudos: 130





	nightbird mentioned you in a post!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: lots of things happen in our fandom wide Netflix Party glee watch (which, btw everyone is invited to!!! 16:00 EST every day!!! @justgleekout posts the link every day!) and this was one of those things… as prompted by @porcelain-nightbird
> 
> Also, we’re gonna ignore canon (as per use) bc Kurt and Blaine are the same age and both juniors. (also, ten points if anyone can catch the blink and you’ll miss it Little Numbers reference lmao)
> 
> Shout out to TheNameIsBritney for hyping me up ilysm!!!
> 
> Hope yall enjoy!

He doesn’t know who reblogged it, but it doesn’t matter because Blaine read their tags (#this is hilarious! #made my day tbh) and immediately blocked and unfollowed them.

The video is from a low-class gossip blog (he knows it’s a low-class gossip blog because the url is jbi-gossip-blog) and the title on his computer screen has been glaring tauntingly back at him for what seems like eons. 

**JBI’s Gleek of the Week clip: Local Lady Lips (@porcelain-e-hummel) Gets What’s Coming to Him!** **  
**_Link to full Glee’s Big GAY Summer video_ [ _here_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMHPyNXFudI)

He can’t believe the asshole who posted it actually tagged the poor guy, along with ten other weird urls, including but not limited to rbbgoldstar, puckzilla, queen-j-cedes, and asianpersuasian. 

Still, he can’t help but watch it and rewind it and watch it again (always stopping before those two jerks at the end throw some gross looking frozen drink on their unsuspecting victim). Blaine clicks the cursor and drags back the video seeker to the beginning.

_“You know what, Jacob?”_

The boy in the video starts and Blaine can’t help but grin. (He also can’t help but notice the boy’s meticulously put together outfit and stylish hair and god, _gorgeous_ eyes, but that’s besides the point right now.)

_“It doesn’t take much courage for people to park their cottage cheese behinds in their Barcaloungers and log on to the Internet and start tearing people down, does it? But you know what does take some courage? Standing up and singing about something. So here’s a message for everyone that reads your blog. Next time, instead of posting an anonymous comment online, say what you have to say to my face!”_

As he hits the spacebar, Blaine remembers when he first started following porcelain-e-hummel clear as day. He likes this site—the vague anonymity of it, how he can post whatever the hell he wants whether it be Star Wars fanfiction or a funny text post, and not have to worry about distant family members commenting on it like they do on facebook. Mainly, though, he uses it to keep tabs on the big show choir blogs (the Warblers have been a part of his life for nearly three years now; of course he’s going to scope out the competition).

One of porcelain’s posts, a grainy video of a team called the New Directions (who were supposedly ripe to topple then three time national champions Vocal Adrenaline) at their very first Sectionals competition, had started gaining some traction. Of course, it lost any popularity when their team lost to now _four_ time champs Vocal Adrenaline.

But Blaine still checked out his blog every now and again. Original posts of outfits with detailed descriptions of where he’d found each item (though, Blaine noticed, never of his face. Unfortunately, that video is the first time he’s seen porcelain’s face. Which is even more unfortunate because it’s a really, _really_ good face), reblogs of articles from Vogue, aesthetic black-and-white pictures of cherry blossoms or occasionally a classic car, and very strong political opinions. Finally, he’d decided it would be more efficient to just follow him instead of typing his url into the search bar every night.

He’s always had sort of a friend-crush on pocelain-e-hummel, felt a strong pull towards him, like they would get along really well, but he isn’t sure how to go about it. Just go into his inbox and say: _Hey, I know you don’t know me because I’m just a stranger on the internet, but I think you’re kind of cute and I think we’d be great friends ^-^?_

Granted, that’s how most of his friends on this site found their way into _his_ inbox… But he just isn’t brave enough to do something that drastic.

The video’s got nearly a thousand notes.

Blaine sighs.

Despite his reservations against leaving his own drama free corner of the internet, he finds himself clicking the new text post icon.

* * *

Kurt doesn’t care about the video being taken. He doesn’t even care that he was slushied, or that his hair is still tinted a light pink by the saturated dye. 

What he does care about, though, is the fact that Jacob Scum-of-the-Earth Israel managed to figure out which blog was his and tag him and half the school in it.

His inbox has been filled with anon hate for weeks.

He’s managed to block every single anonymous message so far, but they’re still trickling in. Based on the spelling and grammar mistakes, Kurt suspects it's Azimio, Karofsky, and co. In all honesty, it might just be better to deactivate his blog and start fresh. There’s a few urls he’s been hoarding and this would be the perfect time to use them… But he’d lose all his posts, his precious memories, and worst of all… he’d be letting them win.

 _Maybe it’s not letting them win,_ he muses. _Maybe it’s just curating your internet experience to be more enjoyable. This was your sacred little space and JBI went and got his grubby little hands on it. It’s tainted anyways._

When he gets home, he fires up his laptop and goes into settings. The mouse hovers over the deactivate button, he takes a deep breath and—

Gets a notification.

_nightbird mentioned you in a post!_

Curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks on the bubble that pops up, which takes him to a page and he realizes…

Nightbird. _Nightbird._

He’s always had trouble putting faces to urls, but as soon as he sees the profile pic of a beaming, curly haired boy in a navy and red school uniform, his knees go weak.

This guy always posts pictures of himself with his friends, and Kurt—tragically attracted to straight boys only, apparently—always notices. 

_Oh god, oh_ god. _He’s probably tagged you in some long winded post about why he’s going to block you and why those jocks were right to throw that slushy in your face and…_

He scrolls down to the post and the voice inside his head shuts up for two blissful minutes.

 _Okay. So. We’ve all seen that god awful video that @jbi-gossip-blog posted featuring @porcelain-e-hummel, and if you haven’t, good for you. Don’t watch it._[ _Here’s_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBsP1N89pYU&t=32s) [_some_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5htVX21cEGM) [_vine_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9Ge8z-nAEg) [_compilations_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Tdq2NvEjYs) [_instead_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlyhSuUfJII) _. There are better ways to spend your time than spreading the filthy homophobic trash jbi posts. (Not that I expect you to care what I think, jbi, but in case you were wondering… that’s what I think of your “journalism”)_

_If you’ve reblogged it, or thought it was funny, then you can get the hell off my blog because as you can see by the queue of people I just blocked, I have absolutely no room in my life to tolerate bullying of this nature._

_Prejudice is just ignorance, but this sort of passive apathy enables neanderthals like the ones in this video to believe that their hate is valid and will surely only spark more incidents like this one._

_Unless you’re a member of the LBGT community, you have no idea what this sort of video means to us. Or what we’ve been through. (Yes I’m playing the gay card, what are you gonna do about it?) Even if porcelain is not a member of said community, he was still victimized by harsh words that affect all of us._

_He’s still a person. No one deserves that._

_So from the bottom of my heart, I am begging you to please stop! spreading! that! shit! around! If you already did, it’s not too late to delete it._

_You can choose to be on the right side of history._

_Nightbird out._

It already has nearly a hundred notes.

Kurt could cry. 

Hell, he _does_ cry.

He likes the post, reblogs it with a myriad of thanks in the tags, and cries out of sheer gratitude until his head hurts from dehydration.

The only people he has in his life who have ever stood up for him like that are the New Directions, and of course, his father. But to have a stranger on the internet (a popular stranger on the internet, he’s noticed. A _cute,_ popular stranger on the internet. A _gay,_ cute, popular stranger on the internet) be so kind that he makes an entire post telling other people to be kind?

Kurt’s heart can’t take it. It’s by far one of the sweetest things ever done for him.

Still a sobbing mess, he clicks the inbox icon on nightbird’s page and starts typing.

* * *

“So the study guide asks which art style is associated with Stravinsky’s 1913 composition Rite of Spring. Nick says it’s Impressionism, but I distinctly remember Mrs. Rod connecting Monet to Debussy’s _la cathédral engloutie,_ so—”

The snapping of Wes’s fingers in front of Blaine’s nose make him go cross-eyed.

“Uh, hello? Earth to Blaine?”

David groans. “Oh, leave him alone Wes, he’s probably just tired and spacing out. We’ve been at this for hours. It’s an elective class and we’re all taking it Pass/Fail!”

“Yes, and if we’re going to get that P—”

“Wanky,” Jeff interjects with a smirk.

“Then we actually have. To. Stu. Dy!”

Blaine shakes his head, and any lingering thoughts about porcelain-e-hummel from it. “Y-yeah, sorry. Let’s get back on track.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Nick starts quickly. “What’s the rush? Tell us, Blainers, what’s troubling you?”

“You just don’t want to study,” he deadpans back. 

“Nonsense, I am truly, very, _deeply_ interested in anything that doesn’t involve Wes running his mouth anymore.”

“Ex _cuse_ me!?”

“You’re excused,” Jeff says offhandedly.

“I’m with Nick on this one,” David says. “Talk to us, Anderson.”

Blaine sighs. “So do you remember that video that got posted a while back of that guy getting a slushy tossed in his face?”

The rest of the Warblers gathered around the table grimace in recollection. 

“Well, I made a post about it last night.”

“I saw!” Jeff acknowledges. “It was a good post, I reblogged it and everything.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what it is but… I can’t stop thinking about that poor guy. And he hasn’t been very active on his blog lately, so I was wondering if I should check up on him or something, or if that was too weird. He competed against Vocal Adrenaline, so we know he’s in the same Region as them, but that could be anywhere from here to Indiana, but if he’s nearby maybe we could do something nice for him or… I don’t know, I’m just worried, I guess…”

The room is silent, tense for a moment.

Then, four variations of the phrase, “Blaine, you _clearly_ have a crush on this guy,” including: 

A deadpanned “You’re in love with him,” from David

A barked out laugh and, “You wanna bone him so bad,” from Jeff.

And a very kind “It’s called a crush, you imbecile,” from Wesley.

“I—w-what!?” Blaine sputters out. He gives out a little disbelieving scoff, shakes his head. “I-I do _not_ have a _crush_ on him!” And oh, he almost even believes himself. “Maybe, like-like-like a friend crush, you know?” He looks pleadingly at David, who only gives him a condescending look. “You know, when you just really, really, _really_ want to be someone’s friend? That’s a thing!”

Nick rolls his eyes to the heavens. “You’re right there, Blaine. Friend-crushes _are_ a thing. But when you want to be someone’s friend, you invite them out for coffee.” He looks at Blaine, but as he speaks, his gaze wanders past him. “You don’t obsess over them day and night, wondering if they’re okay and are they thinking about you just as much as you’re thinking about them? Are they wishing they were by your side at night, craving the gentle caress of your skin against theirs? Do they know how you would give anything to be loved by them, by someone, to not feel the bitter pang of loneliness as you lie awake tossing and turning at three am?”

An absurd silence…

Then, “Dude, are you fucking okay?” from David.

Nick doesn’t even bring his gaze back to his friends. “Absolutely not. I’m very lonely, romantically speaking.”

“Can we please get back to studying? That Oliver Messiaen listening is gonna kick our asses.”

“Absolutely not!” Nick says. “There are more important things than Oliver Messiaen!”

“Dude, he wrote Quartet for the End of Time while stuck in a concentration camp during the Second World War,” Jeff points out. “Have some respect.”

His friends look at him, dumbfounded. _Where the hell did that come from?_ Blaine thinks.

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Oh, you think I’m just this ‘No thoughts, head empty,’ dumb blond, don’t you?”

Four unison, “Yes”s.

“Wow, okay, _rude._ I have opinions.”

“Can we please get back to the matter at hand?” Nick asks.

“Yes, dear god,” Wes groans. _“Studying!”_

“No, true love,” Nick says, quickly and evenly, like a teacher correcting an overzealous student who gave the wrong answer during class.

Wesley drops his head down, nose-first, into his open text book. _“I ate oo eyes!”_

“I’m not in love with him,” Blaine insists. “I just want to get to know him better.”

“Yeah, you’re crushing hard, dude.”

Blaine wants to protest again, but… he thinks of that video, and the twisting in his stomach he felt when he saw porcelain’s lovely face get hit with that icee. He thinks of how he would read through every post of his, laughing whenever he made a quippy comment about his day or posted an absurd story about how he thrifted for one of his amazing outfits or…

Blaine groans and throws his head back. “Fuuuuuuuuck.”

“That’s what I thought. Pull out your laptop,” Nick instructs Blaine.

He thinks about asking why, but Blaine’s learned by now to just go with it. It’s just easier than arguing with Nick. So he slides out his laptop from his bag and fires it up.

Three of the four remaining Warblers huddle around Blaine (Wesley is still muttering curses into _A History of Western Music)._

“Now what?”

“Log in and send little porcelain a message, duh!”

“That’s it!?” Blaine nearly shouts, getting a bout of shushes from other students. “That’s your big plan? No big romantic gesture? No huge flash-mob musical number?”

“Need I remind you of the Gap-Attack?”

“Point taken.”

Blaine sighs and clicks the login button, making his friends look away for his password because he _knows_ what they’ll do with that knowledge. 

And then he sees it.

The little red circle with a number one in the center of it, floating above his messenger.

_porcelain-e-hummel sent you a message!_

“Oh my god,” Blaine says. “He already sent me a message.”

The four other Warblers explode into chaos, and even Wesley bolts up from his chair to go take a gander. They all demand to know what it says. 

Blaine opens the message.

_Hey!_

_Sorry, I know you don’t know me all that well and… actually, I guess that's kind of the point._

_I just wanted to thank you for that post you made. You really didn’t have to do that. I’m really grateful people like you, who are so open about taking a stance against bullying, exist in this world. Thank you, really._

_I’m Kurt, by the way :)_

Blaine _melts._

Kurt.

What a lovely name for a lovely boy. 

He’s so busy smiling, staring at the message with the goofiest grin, that he doesn’t even notice his four friends making an obnoxious scene behind him until the librarian is escorting them out.

When they’re out in the hallway, Blaine aloofly mumbles, “His name is Kurt,” laptop still in his hands while his friends squabble over what to send back.

“Say something funny!”

“No, just be yourself!”

“What kind of crapbag advice is that?”

“Brevity is the soul of wit, my dear Blaine.”

By the time he registers Jeff reaching for the laptop, he’s too late to stop anything. 

The five boys are all struggling for the laptop, and it isn’t until they hear the _whoosh_ of the message sending that they all stop.

“Oh, no,” Blaine cries. “What did you all type!?”

He sees the unintelligible response and supposes it could be worse. They could have accidentally sent a draft of the StormPilot one shot AU he never finished. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I am going back up to my room!” Blaine announces. “And you all can come join me when you’ve settled down.”

With a huff, he heads up the Dalton grand staircase. He’s not even fully turned around when the smile reappears on his face.

* * *

**Nightbird:** agdkahdlahdlqbdlah  
 **Nightbird:** I am *so* sorry about that! My friends had a… disagreement… and got my laptop involved.

 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** lol, that’s okay. Trust me, I know ALL about dysfunctional friend groups.

 **Nightbird:** Can’t live with them, can’t live without them  
 **Nightbird:** How have you been?

 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** I’m fine, thanks for asking. Trust me, though, that slushie is *not* the worst thing to happen to me lol

 **Nightbird:** Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that 

**Porcelain-e-hummel:** It’s okay, I mean, to quote the great Sondheim, “I’m still here,” right?

 **Nightbird:** Sondheim, yes! You have excellent taste. And to quote him as well, “no one is alone”. So if you ever need to talk, I’m here.  
 **Nightbird:** Oh, god that was so cheesy, I’m so sorry

 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** No, it was cute :)

 **Nightbird:** I’m Blaine, by the way :)  
 **NIghtbird:** And I really do mean it btw. About talking. Sometimes all you need is a good ear, and I don’t just mean for show choir purposes

 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** Okay, so…  
 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** If I’m being completely honest, you did sort of stop me from deleting my blog.

 **NIghtbird:** What!? Noooooo, It’s such a pretty blog!

 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** hahaha, thanks!  
 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** It was getting kind of hard, though. A lot of my irl school bullies found this blog, and realized it was me. I’ve been getting a lot of anonymous hatred, which, I’m used to.  
 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** But this was supposed to be *my* little safe haven, you know? The only place I could be one hundred percent myself and not have to worry about… well, you saw the video.  
 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** I do think I’ve managed to block mostly all the anons, though.  
 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** Sorry… that was too much, wasn’t it?

 **Nightbird:** No, not at all.  
 **Nightbird:** Finding a place that feels safe is something really special for people like us  
 **Nightbird:** Shit. I didn’t mean to assume!! You’re just very politically vocal about things affecting the lgbt community, but that's not a good reason to assume…  
 **Nightbird:** Not that it’s my place to be *asking*, either.  
 **Nightbird:** Fuck me  
 **Nightbird:** AGAIN, NOT ASSUMING

 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** LOL  
 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** You can’t see me, but I am actually DYING of laughter right now!  
 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** Thank you for making my day!  
 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** And I know it doesn’t necessarily matter, but you assumed right :)

 **Nightbird:** Oh, okay *phwew*  
 **Nightbird:** That would have sucked if I pissed you off because I’ve been wanting to be your friend for a long time

 **Porcelain-e-hummel:** In that case, I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to have been slushied :)

* * *

It doesn’t take long for them to exchange numbers. The website doesn’t give direct notifications when you get a private message, and Kurt wants to know the _second_ Blaine messages him.

Kurt messages him in the middle of French class, after stoner Brett tries to convince him to trade his midterm paper for some weed.

 **Blaine:** And you didn’t take it!?

 **Kurt:** *scoff* I am a man of HONOR, sir!

 **Blaine:** You could have re-sold it, started a fruitful side business

(Dalton goes on a field trip to the birding center, and Blaine sends pictures of the fowl to Kurt, comparing them to famous singers. Blaine tells himself it’s because they were just talking about Cher the other day, but he knows he’d find any excuse to message Kurt.

 **Blaine:** How is [ this ](https://i2.wp.com/www.thecapecoop.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/IMG_1982.jpg)bird NOT Katy Perry?

 **Kurt:** Because she is CLEARLY Lady Gaga!

 **Blaine:** You’re high. GASP, I *knew* you took that weed from that stoner guy!

 **Kurt:** BLOCKED)

Kurt sends Blaine selfies in the costumes he designed for the New Direction’s annual boys versus girls competition, as per Blaine’s request. 

**Kurt:** Here are those pics, as requested!

 **Blaine:** Wow… You look really, really good

 **Kurt:** Thanks, I worked really hard on the suits!

 **Blaine:** Well… I don’t think the suit can take all the credit ;)

Kurt’s face doesn’t stop feeling warm for about thirty years. He tries not to think about the implications of Blaine’s words. 

He does. Constantly.

(Blaine sees Kurt post a vaguely sad post on his blog, and texts him. Kurt tells him about his mom. They get to talking about life, loss, love, and everything in-between. Blaine even tells Kurt about the Sadie Hawkins dance.

He thinks it’s the first time he’s told someone outside of his family about it.

 **Kurt:** I’m so glad I have you to talk to about this kind of stuff.

 **Blaine:** Right back at you <3  
 **Blaine:** This might sound kind of weird, and I know it’s only been a few weeks but… I think you’re my best friend.

 **Kurt:** I know you’re mine

It’s his favorite conversation they’ve had so far.)

They even talk about their upcoming Sectionals competition.

 **Kurt:** Who are you guys competing against?

 **Blaine:** Honestly, I missed the announcement a few days ago because I was texting you in the middle of rehearsal. Oops. All that matters is that it’s NOT Vocal Adrenaline, so I could care less. You guys?

 **Kurt:** You remember that day I was hiding from Karofsky and Azimio in the girls’ restroom?

 **Blaine:** Yeah

 **Kurt:** That was the day they announced it for us, but I missed it. Obviously. I’ll ask Rachel next time I see her, though. Good luck at your Sectionals, though! I don’t know how the regioning stuff works, but maybe if we’re both lucky, we’ll see each other at Nationals!

 **Blaine:** I look forward to it :)

But Kurt forgets to ask Rachel.

(Blaine intentionally doesn’t ask Wes. He doesn’t want to bear his wrath.)

And then one night, Blaine gets really, really drunk.

(Like, _really_ drunk.)

* * *

It’s three am on a Friday night (or is it Saturday morning?) when Kurt gets the phone call. He had been asleep, but he uses his phone for his alarm and no one ever calls this late, so he doesn’t ever bother to silence it.

He wakes with a start and feels around for his phone until he grabs it and answers it with a sleep-heavy “Hello?” before he even checks who it is.

 _“Oh-oh, mmmmy god, Kurt. Hi,”_ a breathless voice says on the other end.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Kurt manages through a yawn. “I am half asleep and it seems my echoic memory is failing me. Who is this?”

_“It’s-it’s ah, it’s Blaine.”_

That wakes Kurt the hell up. 

He sits up in his bed. They’ve never spoken on the phone before.

“Blaine?” he asks in disbelief.

 _“Yyyyup!”_ he giggles, popping the last consonant off his lips. _“That’s me! What’s up?”_

“I don’t know,” Kurt admits with a laugh, heart thrumming in his chest like a hummingbird’s wings. “You tell me. You’re the one who called.”

_“I did? Shit, I did! I called to tell you that I think you are my best fr—you’ll- sorry, sorry, my roommate’s birthday and he got me super drunk. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever been this drunk before, sorry. Anyways, what was I saying? Oh! Right, I was reminding you that you are my best friend.”_

Kurt throws his head back against his headboard and sucks in a breath. “You’re mine, too.”

 _“A-a-and I know, I know we haven't really talked about it yet, but I think we should meet.”_ Kurt’s stomach drops in the best way possible. _“Lima and Westerville aren’t that far away and I just… I would give anything to see your beautiful face and hear that laugh again… God, now I have to be funny because that laugh you just made—it made my chest feel like-like-like it has stars in it, Kurt. Stars!”_

Kurt’s stomach flutters again, light as air. 

He would love to meet Blaine. Meeting him is actually the least he’s been thinking about doing with Blaine (he realizes the dirty implications of that thought and is thankful he has the sense to not blurt it out to Blaine). 

More than anything, Kurt wants this boy, who he’s never even met, but knows more about him than Rachel or Tina or even Mercedes, in his life. Blaine, who is so kind and compassionate and makes Kurt feel, for the first time in his life, _safe._

He wants to hug Blaine, hold him, touch him, laugh with him, kiss him. He just wants to _be_ with Blaine, so badly his heart aches. 

So of course, of _course…_ he has no choice but to say, “I think that sounds like a perfect idea.”

* * *

Blaine apologizes profusely the next day, but Kurt is insistent that he didn’t feel pressured at all about making this decision.

They agree to meet at an equidistant coffee shop the next Saturday.

Saturday comes, and Blaine is out of his mind, bursting at the seams with excitement.

 **Blaine:** Okay so, I know we said four, but that extra Warblers rehearsal got out early so… I’m already here. Does that make me the biggest loser in the world or what?

 **Kurt:** No!!!  
 **Kurt:** I’m really excited too! If my mood were an ABBA song, it would be “I’ve Been Waiting for You”

 **Blaine:** Why is that the cutest thing ever?  
 **Blaine:** Wait a second… I thought that song was about a baby???  
 **Blaine:** Are you calling me a baby?

 **Kurt:** 🎶 You thrill me you delight me 🎶

 **Blaine:** …  
 **Blaine:** Well, now I can’t be mad. Not when you’re being cute like that

 **Kurt:** Oh my GOD, STOP IT

 **Blaine:** Just call me sitar boy, like from Moulin Rouge

 **Kurt:**???

 **Blaine:** I only speak the truth

 **Kurt:** OMG

In Blaine’s mind, the conversation goes really well. 

So it’s a very unpleasant surprise when Kurt stops responding.

And doesn’t show up.

* * *

**Blaine:** I only speak the truth

 **Kurt:** OMG

Kurt sets his phone down on the dresser and continues getting ready for his date with Blaine. _Not a date,_ he reminds himself. Though, he can’t help but crack a smile when he involuntarily thinks _Not yet, anyways._

The top of the dresser shakes with vibrations from his phone, and Kurt dashes to pick it up. It isn’t Blaine, though. Brow furrowed, he answers the call and puts the phone by his ear. 

“What’s up, Cedes?”

Her voice comes through on the other end of the line, trembling and thin. “Oh, thank god you answered.”

Immediately, Kurt’s on edge. He stands up. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“It’s it-we’re fine now,” she manages. “But Tina and I were on our way to the mall and her back tire blew out. W-we spun out of control for—god, I don’t even know how long it was, it felt like forever.”

She sniffs a few times and Kurt doesn’t even hesitate when he says, “Where are you? Send me your location. Have Tina turn on her hazard lights and make sure you guys are well off into the shoulder. I’m on my way.”

* * *

**Kurt:** Please don’t hate me

 **Blaine:** I don’t hate you… that’s what kind of sucks about it.

 **Kurt:** I’m so so sooooo sorry I forgot to text you.  
 **Kurt:** Tina and Mercedes had an emergency yesterday. Tina’s tire blew out and they needed help. I had to go change her tire and made sure they got home

 **Blaine:** Oh my god, is everyone alright?

 **Kurt:** Yes, they’re fine now, A little shaken, but otherwise unharmed.  
 **Kurt:** I’m really sorry I forgot to message you

 **Blaine:** Don’t even sweat it. I’m just glad everyone’s okay!

 **Kurt:** So... would it be too much to ask to reschedule?  
 **Kurt:** Because I really like you. And I would still really love to meet you…  
 **Kurt:** That is, if you still want to

 **Blaine:** I would love that :)

* * *

They reschedule to meet the following weekend, but Wes springs a double weekend rehearsal on them on Friday night. Kurt is very understanding about it all, which Blaine is so grateful for.

 **Kurt:** No, I get it, TRUST me! 

**Kurt:** Rachel pulls stunts like these all the time and I hate her for it but… she’s usually right about needing them. Good luck at your sectionals!

 **Blaine:** Why are you so good to me? I must have done something really great in a past life to earn you <3  
 **Blaine:** Good luck at yours, too! Suckers won’t know what hit them ;)

(Blaine suggests they meet on a weeknight, but that afternoon Kurt’s dad asks for his help on a total lemon of a car. 

**Kurt:** His heart’s still not very strong after…

 **Blaine:** I know

 **Kurt:** I just don’t want him to be working alone. Just in case. And he is *so* stubborn, he’ll go even if I don’t!

 **Blaine:** Stubborn? Doing something even though people advise you not to? Hm. Totally doesn’t sound like the Hummels I know at all

 **Kurt:** Okay that was ONE impulse buy of a Liz Taylor collection necklace that just *happened* to be a knock off like you warned me it was…

Blaine goes on about how he’d just been trying to protect Kurt, and normally that would annoy Kurt, but… 

He likes it.

Blaine makes him feel safe.)

Three more failed attempts at meeting, and then it’s the week of Sectionals, so neither of them even bring it up. It’s like the universe doesn’t _want_ them to meet.

(Kurt could give two shits about what the universe wants.)

* * *

Backstage, Kurt grins down at his phone, sending Blaine one last message before slipping it into his pocket. 

“Ready for this?” Mercedes asks.

“If by this you mean the pity solo that Mr. Schue gave me after handling my bullying situation so poorly… then no.” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m so nervous.”

“You’re gonna be so great, Kurt!” she promises. “And just think, after this we’re free for a few months until Regionals, so you’ll finally have the chance to meet this mysterious Blaine.”

The announcer summons them, and with one last squeal at each other, they hurry into their spots.

* * *

**Kurt:** omg okay, we’re about to perform! Wish me luck!

 **Blaine:** Break a leg! Break all the limbs!! In a good way!

He’s so busy staring down and smiling at his phone that he misses the announcer call out the name of the group about to perform. The music starts with the synth of some eighties song and a duet.

Wes elbows Blaine in the ribcage and angrily whispers, “B, we do not have time for you to e-flirt with your boy toy! This is our competition. You are our lead soloist. Pay! Attention!”

Blaine rolls his eyes, but when he lifts them to the stage his phone falls right out of his hands into his lap.

On the stage, dancing with the team is…

“Oh my god. That’s Kurt.”

Jeff, on the other side of Blaine, nearly jumps out of his chair. “Wait wait wait, Kurt as in _your_ Kurt!?”

Blaine doesn’t answer, he’s busy staring in awe as the duet finishes and Kurt takes center stage. The New Directions stand still behind him in formation, only vocalizing background harmonies as Kurt sings a slowed down version of the Beatles’ _I Want To Hold Your Hand._

“What other Kurt could he possibly mean, you himbo?” David whisper shouts. 

“Cobain?” Nick defends him. “Von Trapp?”

“Vonnegut Jr.” Wesley adds.

But Blaine can’t hear any of what they’re saying at all. He’s too busy being moved to tears by Kurt’s performance. 

If he had any doubts about how he felt about Kurt before, they’re completely silenced now. 

Watching Kurt on the stage, singing the song like he’s got nothing left to lose—It’s a moment of clarity for Blaine. He’s in love with his best friend he’s never met before. 

The New Directions finish off with an energetic performance of Valerie, and the Warblers go to head to the back of the stage. 

Wesley places his hands firmly on Blaine’s shoulders. “Okay, so I know you’ve probably got stars and the moon and every other celestial entity in your eyes right now because you just saw the object of your affections for the first time in real life, but the Warblers need you.” Blaine’s heart is still pounding in his chest, but Wes’s words reach him. “And we can’t have you going soft or easy on them just because you’re in love with the guy who also turns out to be their most talented singer.”

Blaine makes a face. “Okay, I’m in love with him, yeah, but I’d never throw the competition. Where’s the integrity in that?”

“There we go! Now let’s get out there and kill it.”

* * *

Kurt’s back in the audience, still receiving praise from his director, Mercedes, Tina, and even _Rachel_ for his enthralling performance when the emcee introduces the next group.

“And now, from Westerville, Ohio, the Dalton Academy Warblers!”

The _what?_

Kurt’s jaw physically drops when the curtains open to reveal Blaine surrounded by the friends he goes on about for hours at a time, all clad in the same dapper navy and red uniforms. “Oh my god,” he mumbles to Mercedes. “That’s him.”

“That’s who?”

“That’s Blaine!”

She does a double take, looking back and forth between Kurt and the stage. “You mean to tell me that dreamboat up on that stage leading our competitors in a knee-weakening version of Hey Soul Sister is your virtual boyfriend!?”

“Yes! Well, no, we—we’re not dating.” She rolls her eyes. “But we’re very close…” 

“So, what are you gonna do?”

* * *

The Warblers come very close, but in the end, they just didn’t have the same pep in their step that the New Directions did and it costs them a trip to Regionals.

Of course, Blaine is upset, but when he looks across the stage to see Kurt’s ecstatic face, he can’t find it within himself to be bitter about his loss. There’s always next year anyways, for him, at least.

For a split second, he contemplates whether he should go congratulate Kurt in person. After all, he is only a few feet away. It would be so easy to just say hi and break that barrier. Cold feet get the better of him, though (he doesn’t want to intrude on what seems like a private moment), so he follows the rest of the Warblers off the stage and outside to their bus.

Just as he’s stepping on to the bus, though, a familiar voice calls out his name. He turns around to see Kurt—actually, really there, Kurt —walking towards him, his sectionals outfit covered up by a long peacoat, paired with deep maroon earmuffs to shield him from the November cold.

Blaine is powerless against Kurt’s adorableness, amplified by his beaming grin and slightly pinked cheeks and nose. 

“Blaine!” he repeats, and rushes to throw his arms around Blaine’s neck, pulling him in for a tight squeeze. It’s just a hug, except, there's nothing “just” about it. Kurt’s cold cheek against his make him gasp, send a little shiver down his spine. Their bodies are flush against one another, warmth only amplified by the chilly air.

Blaine has kissed another boy before. He can’t say it wasn’t nice, or that he wasn’t nervous, but there was definitely no spark.

Now, he wonders if it’s possible to feel fireworks from something as simple as a hug.

Kurt pulls back, and the smile on his absolutely glowing face makes Blaine’s knees turn to jelly. He cups Blaine’s face in his hands, still grinning like a fool. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you up on that stage!”

“Me neither,” Blaine breathlessly agrees, diving back in to pull Kurt in close again. In a moment of pure joy, he even lifts Kurt up a little and swings him around gently, muffling his gleeful laugh against Kurt’s coat.

The firmness and solidity of Kurt’s heated form against his own serves as a constant reminder to Blaine that he’s here. The icon he’s seen on his screen for the past eight weeks, the image on the other end of the phone who he’s told every secret to, shared every insecurity with (both big and small) _Kurt,_ is real and here and in his arms and a hundred times more handsome in person, holy hell.

“The way things were going, I wasn’t sure if we’d ever get a chance to actually meet,” Blaine admits, still clutching Kurt’s forearms.

“I was nervous, too,” Kurt agrees. His face turns sheepish, a slightly more saturated pink than it was a few seconds ago. Blaine is sure it’s just the gust of wind that breezes by them, though. “But now that you know, we’ve officially met… I was wondering if you and your friends would want to accompany me and the rest of the New Directions for a celebratory dinner. I get it if it’s too soon, or weird, because of the competition, or whatever, but…” Blaine already knows he’s going to say yes based just on the way Kurt’s eyes shine hopefully. “I would really love it if we got to spend more time with each other.”

He can’t bite back the smile that spreads across his face when he rapidly agrees. Nor would he want to.

* * *

Kurt expected Blaine to be different in person than he was online, it’s only the realest expectation to have.

And Blaine _is_ different.

He is _so_ much more charismatic and endearing in real life.

Nothing could have prepared Kurt for the same cute comments Blaine would constantly message him, this time accompanied by his alluring smile (aimed towards Kurt) and a gentle shoulder nudge.

Even his most callous friends aren’t inoculated against Blaine Devon Anderson’s disarming charm.

As expected, Rachel inserts herself into the situation by hinting that Blaine’s main goal in befriending Kurt was to derail their shot at Nationals.

“I’m not saying that I think that’s true,” Finn starts, narrowing his eyes at the head Warbler. “But I am saying that if you hurt or betray my little brother—”

“I’m a month older than you,” Kurt cuts him off at Blaine’s obvious discomfort, trying to hide the heat crawling to his face.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Wes, one of Blaine’s friends, jumps in. “Blaine is too honorable to use his crush to get a leg up in our show choir competition.”

Kurt’s heart leaps and he has to hide his grin behind a glass of water as Blaine swiftly smacks his arm against Wes’s shoulder. 

“I promise I would never, ever do anything to hurt him,” Blaine finally says in an attempt to quell everyone’s concerns. He turns to look at Kurt. “I really care about him.”

“I… really care about you, too,” Kurt replies. The smile Blaine rewards him with is more than enough to make him glad he admitted that.

There are a few scattered “Awe”s (Nick and David from the Warblers, as far as Kurt can tell. He thinks he hears Puck’s voice in the mix of the New Directions, but… surely he must be mistaken) throughout the table.

“Alright, can we stop pretending that Hummel and Helmet Hair here aren’t the most nauseating thing we’ve ever seen?” Santana starts with a wave of her hand. “This is supposed to be a group dinner and you two are flaunting your date in front of everyone.”

Before Kurt has even a second to respond, the rest of the New Directions and Warblers are hopping onto the conversation, with Kurt and Blaine dragged helplessly along like a pair of ragdolls.

“Oh don’t act like you’re not just a bitter sack of sour grapes, Satan,” Mercedes says, rushing to defend her best friend. “Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you have to bring everyone else down.”

Santana draws her head back like a cobra about to strike, mouth agape. All she’s missing is the fangs. “You’re gonna regret that. Auntie Snixx is gonna make an appearance sometime soon. When you least expect it. And I can _not_ be held accountable for the damage she causes.”

“Should we be concerned?” Wes mumbles.

“I carry holy water with me,” Mercedes snorts. “Just shut up and be happy for our boy. And his new boy.” She sends a wink to Blaine before sipping on her straw.

“Honestly I’m glad you two finally hooked up,” Puck starts. “It’s about time someone deflowered Hummel.”

Jeff nods in approval. “Nice.”

Finn scrunches his face up in disapproval. “Dude, that’s my brother!”

“I think what Puck means,” Tina says, glaring down the New Direction’s resident bad boy. “Is that we’re all super happy for you two.”

“Even if the romance is a little too Romeo and Juliet for my taste,” Rachel grumbles.

“We’re not—” Kurt tries to get a word in, but really, he should know better than to even try.

“No,” Puck reassures them. “I definitely meant that Kurt’s so tightly wound up he needs a good fu—”

“Oh, thank god,” David mutters, cutting Puck off. “I thought _we_ were the dysfunctional ones.”

Kurt buries his face into his hands, hoping that the sheer force of embarrassment is enough to make him spontaneously combust. When Blaine rubs his hand over Kurt’s back, though, it definitely softens the blow.

* * *

Somehow, Blaine is peer pressured into getting a lift home from Kurt. 

(“Kurt can take you home. You know, give you a _ride.”_

“Jeff!”

“Wanky.”

“Santana!”)

Despite the fact the majority of both of their days were spent singing, they still turn the radio up the entire ride home.

Blaine is not known for shutting up whenever a song he knows comes on (and he knows a _lot_ of songs), but when Perfect by Pink comes on and Kurt starts singing along, drumming his fingers lightly against the steering wheel, he can’t help but pause and stare fondly at the driver’s seat.

Kurt must notice Blaine’s sudden drop out, because he turns confusedly to him. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Blaine replies softly, knowing and not caring that he looks like a dopey idiot. “I could just listen to you sing all day.”

Kurt ducks his head a little and chuckles as they pull into Blaine’s driveway.

“My friends warned me about strange boys on the internet,” Kurt jokes. “I should have listened.”

“But then you would have missed out on all of my Ratatouille memes.”

“You know I’ve never seen that movie.”

“Yes, and I was hoping that by sending them, I could entice you.”

“Just the offer of spending time with you is enough,” Kurt mumbles softly.

The silence suspended between them is taught with the question Blaine doesn’t know if he’s ready to ask yet. Though, he doesn’t know if anyone is really ready for anything, so screw it.

“Kurt…” he starts, trying hard to swallow down the last bit of hesitance in his voice. “I—was this a date? Because… I would really love it if it were.”

Kurt’s chest rises with the breath he takes in, but he doesn’t answer. 

“I felt a connection to you, before we even had our first conversation. I was drawn to you, somehow, and I-I don’t want to let that die out and always wonder what could have been, Kurt.” He reaches down and interlaces Kurt’s fingers with his own. “I really, really like you.”

Eyes glimmering with elation, and a shadow of a smile gracing his lips, Kurt finally responds. “Yeah,” he breathes, “I think it’s safe to call it a date.”

“In that case,” Blaine begins timidly. “Can I… Can I kiss—”

And just like that, Kurt’s hands are cupping Blaine’s cheeks, all but pulling him across the middle console and bringing their lips together. As their lips glide against one another’s, all Blaine can really think is _Oh wow,_ this _is what a kiss is supposed to feel like._

Kurt lets out a noise halfway between a whimper and sigh, and Blaine breathes it in and wraps an arm around Kurt’s neck.

His head goes dizzy and Blaine can’t tell if it’s from the lack of air or how hard his heart is pounding. Eventually, though, they do have to pull away. Once they do, Blaine sucks in a breath, leaning his forehead against the other boy’s. When his sight finally comes back into focus (he’s sure Kurt just made him see constellations), he sees Kurt’s beautiful blue eyes accompanied with a smile.

“So how’s Friday?” Kurt asks. “For that movie date?”

“Definitely.” Blaine moves in to press another lingering kiss to Kurt’s lips, having the presence of mind to give them the proper attention they deserve this time.

Still mostly dazed, he bids Kurt one final goodbye as he hops out of the car and heads inot his house.

He’s barely in through the door when his phone chirps with a notification.

_porcelain-e-hummel mentioned you in a post!_

Fighting the luminous grin on his face is a losing battle.

_Thanks to @nightbird for a wonderful night. He knows why ;)_

He reblogs the post with a million heart emojis in the tags, and comments:

_The pleasure was all mine <3_   
_See you Friday :)_


End file.
